Tribulations
by Fiddlestiicks
Summary: A collection of my unrelated Bella/Edward one-shots that make up a portrait of the emotions and problems our favorite mortal/vampire duo cycle through. Read and review, please! UPDATED: 9/27/08!
1. One: Strength of Will

**Author's Note:  
**Reviews, positive as well as negative, are always welcome!

_Word count: _1,477  
_Summary:_ If the mortal and immortal alike are matched in anything, it's their hard-headed ways.

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**PART ONE:** _STRENGTH OF WILL_

"I can strictly guarantee you, it isn't all that you say you wish for," he said with a sigh, knowing that his logic, albeit from first hand experience, was wasted on her. If anything contrasted more sharply with her frail and beautiful human nature, it was Bella's unwavering hardheadedness. Even if Edward had come to adore the challenges she threw his way ever so often, there were certain obstacles that he had been ready to do away with for the longest time. One such being the topic of conversation at hand - the notion of him bringing Bella into his world, into the shadows he walked in, daily.

He couldn't resist stealing just a peek at her as they sped down the road, impossibly fast speeds whipping them around the spidery curves of the back roads they were exploring, that evening. She was pouting, he saw, in response to his almost paternal warning to her. He merely chuckled and shook his head, disapprovingly. When a person, or vampire, for that matter, is consistently saving your life, it is assumed that you'll suck it up and put on an appreciative smile, isn't it?

Bella couldn't manage that; it was far too difficult to hide the sulking feeling she felt at that moment, even if in the far reaches of her mind, she realized Edward knew best, as he always did. He was inhumanly gifted in every area, and as far as they had managed to come in their relationship together, there was no evidence that being correct in most situations was any exception to that rule. Be that as it may, it was just not a fair trade, in her mind, for him to pretend to be seventeen, yet still act as though he were some sort of father figure, a protector. But that is precisely what is, she had to remind herself, my protector.

"How do you know what it is that I wish for?" Not the most daring challenge she could have put on the table, but the first that sprung to mind in order to fuel her argument, even a bit.

"Because you never miss an opportunity to inform me," he replied, easily. She supposed this much was true, though she was not contented by the smirk that slid over his perfect lips as he became satisfied that he'd squashed her case, beyond rebuttal.

"Perhaps if you just gave me what I want, these conversations would become less frequent. Disappear altogether, even," she suggested angelically, the innocence and naive wonder behind those words tearing Edward between a smile and anger. She did not know what it was that she was asking him to do, nor did she seem to have gathered what it was that she wanted beyond the fact that she wanted him. That was something that she had, something she would always have, if his damned forsaken conscience would keep to its own, once in a blue moon. Still, she lacked experience, knowledge, understanding . . . and perhaps he lacked the courage and the selfishness to make good on her insistent pleading.

"Bella," he spoke gently, sadness winning out the battle between anger and adoration, "you're young, much too young."

She pondered the meaning of that sentence, the double meaning in it's tone not having been lost on her in the least. He meant that she was too young to make the change, though he simultaneously meant she was mentally too young to understand her own desires. She saw that, on some level, and it all but enraged her.

"Yet I'm not too young to know I love you completely, is that it? Though, I'm likely fooling myself into that, as well, aren't I?" She spat out suddenly, surprised by the words and the venom that leaked from her mouth so readily. They were words she could never mean, words that she only hoped would be able to call back, a hope made dangerous by the hair pin trigger attached to his moodiness.

"Haven't I always said do?" Not in so many words, he hadn't, or perhaps just not the same words. He'd always said he was too beautiful, too pure, angelic, good, even, to belong to something as wretched as him. He'd always believed that to be true, and it was a thought he felt he would take to his grave, so to speak. He knew she felt some bewitching enchantment towards him, that she named that feeling love, but really, what was love to a human, with their short lives and flighty patience? And, more over, what was love to a seventeen year old human girl, who was just crazy enough to proclaim that feeling to a vampire, of all things?

"You know that I didn't mean that Edward," she began to protest feebly as the car came to an abrupt stop along a clearing lined with thick forest. Perhaps nighttime in a wooded location was a more dangerous scene than speeding along empty roads with a vampire, but Bella could only feel relief that he was not immediately careening towards her home to drop her off.

"No, I don't," he lied, eyes settling someplace off in the distant dark, away from her. Perhaps he knew she did not completely believe in the words she'd used against him. The real sting lie in the fact he could never know for sure just what percentage of that sentence she had meant with any fraction of her heart, her mind still a guarded fortress far out of his jurisdiction. "What I do know, however, is that you are utterly blind to what you're asking me to take from you, what you're so freely giving up."

"To be with _you_," she reiterated, delicate brow creasing as she did. "What I'm giving up to be with _you_."

"Precisely the reason I cannot let you do it," he said, turning to face her as he spoke. He was evidently frustrated, she could see, his golden eyes swimming with slight anger at the topic of conversation in general. It was not something he enjoyed discussing, or even something he felt merited such a lengthy battle, day in and day out. "Your human emotions, your stubbornness, even your unwise love for me - none are your fault. But when you can see all the results of a decision that lies before you, making the wrong choice based on impulse would be your fault. And even more so my own, for not making you see better."

She fumed at this; she didn't need him to make her see, to make her do anything, for that matter. She needed him only to love her, to allow her to be with him the way she wanted to be, rather than with the looming prospect of aging and of time dancing overhead constantly. She needed to be assured that they were to be one another's and only so, forever, and the promise that he was not going anywhere did little to soothe her. She had little to work with in the way of a comeback to his painfully logical and steadfast way of saying no, and so she sat in silence as his liquid gold eyes burned into her.

"You're well aware that I love you, are you not?" He asked, sincerely and hopefully, his ice cold hand enveloping her much smaller, much warmer hand within it. It seemed as though that simple question broke the tension if only a little, as she lifted her misty eyes momentarily to his, long enough to see the small apologetic smile that hung on his lips. She sighed, knowing she could scarcely stay angry with him when the electricity of their bodies met at the hands, when his eyes atoned for his staunch way of having dealt with the conversation.

"I know you do," she assured him, lifting her free hand to rid her cheeks of the tears that had spilled there. Every time the subject was broached in any seriousness, it garnered the same reaction from both of them. She would go to tears; he would resort to proving his affection to her as best he was able. It was an ugly wash, rinse, repeat cycle, but it was a dance they seemed deadlocked into, until someone's iron will finally bent to suit the other's.

"Then understand why I would never hurt you, or even dream of it," he said in his velveteen voice, leaning towards her and gently pressing his cold lips to her warm, tear stained cheek. Even the scent of her tears enchanted him, he noticed, the tip of his nose brushing lightly along her cheek as he attempted to comfort her. Smiling up at her through those long, dark eyelashes of his, her expression gave him what he considered free reign to believe he had been forgiven.

And he had been, as he always was, as she was incapable of preventing.


	2. Two: Jealousy

**Author's Note:**  
Reviews, positive as well as negative, are always welcome. Thank you to Bella Cullen33 who kindly reviewed last chapter!

_Word count: _1,581  
_Summary:_ Everyone learns a valuable lesson on the green eyed monster we call jealousy.

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**PART TWO:** _JEALOUSY_

"All this immortal patience built up, and yet you still get jealous? Who knew," she teased, voice smiling as she pressed her warm lips to my cheek as we entered the car. I smirked halfheartedly despite myself, starting the car and keeping my hands on the wheel as she attempted to get the best of me. While the kiss did not send us careening into another vehicle as we backed out of the parking lot, she did send my heart aflutter, a fact she thankfully remained unaware of.

"He was staring at you," I muttered in my defense, my smirk fading a little as I recalled our little run in with Mike Newton. Apparently, my kind was no more immune to unfortunate pangs of jealousy, or the messiness that the ritual of teenage love entailed. "And you should have heard what he was thinking."

"We aren't all so fortunate as to be able to do that, and it isn't as though it really matters, Edward," she replied with a shrug, seeming wholly disinterested in just what Mike had been thinking about her, at all. It may not have mattered to her, but it mattered to me in a way that I couldn't understand, in a way I was not entirely sure I liked. I possessed much too much self control to truly be caught up in jealousy over a teenaged boy, whom Bella had never given much more than the time of day, at any rate. However, knowing it was foolish and saying it was silly did not make the feelings of envy lessen whatsoever.

"Easy for you to say; you weren't the one listening in on his fantasizing, now were you?" I challenged, raising an eyebrow as I peeked slightly in her direction.

"I suppose not. Though, I only watch every female . . . not to mention some select males, oggle _you_ shamelessly more than half the time. Like our waitress in there, for instance," she retorted, though her tone seemed nothing but amused. I rolled my eyes and shook my head, garnering another laugh from her, though I was clearly not in on the joke. There may have been some truth to what she was saying, but not much, in my opinion. She was of the school of thought that believed I dazzled people, women especially. It was not difficult to see that my siblings and I were exceptionally made creatures, by any stretch. The difficulty came into play when I was asked to put a lot of stock in what human females, females in general, thought of my talent for 'dazzling' them, on a daily basis. Sure, a quick smile often acted like a Get Out of Jail Free card around Forks High, but I couldn't have cared much less what our waitress had just moments ago thought of me.

"That still isn't the same thing," I protested, perhaps playing to the stubborn vein I seemed to have struck, no pun intended. "You didn't have to hear every little thing she was thinking about me."

"I may as well have!" She replied, her warm smile playing on her lips. She was clearly enjoying our little argument, as she often did. "Believe me, everything she wanted to do with you was written all over her overly made-up face."

I grinned; apparently I was not the only one in the car with a limited amount of patience for the opposite sex fawning over my significant other. The fact remained, however, that she had so little to worry about, despite whatever charming demeanor she insisted I could put on. While almost every hot blooded, and, as fate would have it, a cold blooded, male in dreary little Forks High would line up to be with Bella, not every girl would be falling at my feet if they only realized a fraction of the things Bella had fearlessly faced early on, with me.

"Different, nonetheless. You're a perfectly normal, beautiful, intensely intelligent human girl," I pointed out, vocalizing my thoughts more eloquently than they'd come to me only moments earlier. "You basically have your choice, a wide array of options. I on the other hand. . . well, suffice it to say, not every woman in the world is lining up to be with a monster."

"You always do that," she said, a smidgen of aggravation slipping into her tone, matched by the icy way she crossed her arms across her chest. "You're perhaps the moodiest person I've met in my entire life."

"And you're perhaps the most naive, so I believe that makes us even," I replied easily, giving her a slight shrug as I maneuvered the car swiftly along. I could practically feel her pouting from the seat next to me, despite the fact that what she was thinking was truly a mystery to me. I could likely take a lucky shot at it, however, as she'd been so kind as to tell me aloud her thoughts on the situation. Thoughts that I could not prove false, try as I might. I was prone to quick changes in my temper, the fluctuations set off usually by situations that reminded me how precious she was, and how selfish I was being to taint that. Situations such as that which took place at the restaurant, in which I was reminded heavily that Bella had every opportunity for a normal relationship, a normal life - the two point five children and the white picket fence, all of that - if _I_ were only out of the picture.

"All of this, over Mike Newton, really?" She asked incredulously, the name coming out as though it were the most remote and unthinkable possibility. "He has thoughts about a hundred times more innocent than half of what I'm sure Miss 'Oh, my, is there anything, _any_thing at _all_ I could _possibly_ get you, sir?' was thinking about you, and you are ready to pulverize yourself about it? Amazing."

I almost cracked a smile when she mocked our waitress, speaking breathily as she pressed both hands together on one side of her face and batted her eyelashes in the most exaggerated way. I fought to compose myself, however, and continued on with the rather serious matter at hand.

"I suppose it just makes me think," I replied, shirking any notion of a thoughtful answer. She didn't want to hear it, would probably reject it, anyway.

"Something you do far too much of, already," she said, her warm hand resting atop my own, which lay on my knee. I looked down for a fraction of a second, the sight alone troubling me at the moment, and pulled away. We'd long since gotten over the stage when physical gestures of the smallest kind were difficult and forbidden, but in that particular instance, it felt as though they should be. Of course, she did not like this, angling her body away from me in her seat rather than taking the open stance she had, before I shunned her affection. The remainder of the drive to her home was shared in utter silence.

"I apologize," I said some time after I killed the engine in her driveway, my voice sounding formal even to my own ears, "It seems as though jealousy is an inherited male quality, immortal and mortal alike."

"As is a lack of intelligence if you actually believe for a moment that Mike Newton, or anyone else, truly poses a threat." Apparently, an apology was not enough to convince her to shed the aggravation she was donning in her tone and actions. Perhaps any other mortal female would have been sedated by an apology, but this was Bella I was dealing with, was it not? Sighing, I turned in my seat to face her, gently guiding her by the elbow to have her do the same. My cold hands left her elbow, traveling upwards to cup her chin, lightly.

"I mean it, I truly am sorry that I acted so immaturely, that I've managed to frustrate you so badly on one of the nicest nights we've had out, in such a long time," I sincerely apologized to her, making the eye contact essential for her to believe and, hopefully, accept my apology. Running my thumb over the soft skin of her jawline, I tested the waters. "Forgive me?"

"No," she answered simply and straightfaced, confusing me royally until a small smile crept across her pout. "But I've been told you're the convincing type, and it just so happens, I may be easily persuaded."

"Pray tell, darling, just how easily persuaded _are_ you?" I asked, finally smiling broadly myself as I played along with her tension breaking game. I inched just a bit closer to her, smiling as her cheeks flushed slightly when I leaned in closer to her. She seemed so easily undone by that move, eyelids fluttering shut, heartbeat speeding up as I snaked by hand behind her head and gently guided her in to meet my lips. Each and every time we kissed, a little shock ran through me, a feeling so totally foreign to me, I found it hard not to delight in it. We continued to kiss, persistently but with control, for a short time longer before I pulled back.

"Quite easily, apparently," she said, answering a question my mind had long since abandoned.

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